


Pitch Purple & Snow Blue

by kritiquer



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Nail Polish, fem!Baz Pitch, fem!simon snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25178755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kritiquer/pseuds/kritiquer
Summary: They really can’t go two sentences without insulting the other, can they? Not that Siona wants to; doing anything other than fighting with Baz doesn’t seem right. But then again, isn’t this the sort of thing roommates do? Paint each other’s nails and all that.or, Baz can't help but say yes when Siona asks her to paint her nails.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, fem!simon/fem!baz
Comments: 9
Kudos: 55





	Pitch Purple & Snow Blue

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to @pipsqueakparker and @sconelover for beta-reading, and to @fox_diaz for coming up with "Tyrannia Basilica Grimm-Pitch" which is hilarious!

SIONA 

Baz’s doing it again. The room has a slight sharp odor, one that Siona has become well acquainted with over the past few years. It used to bother her at first, but now the smell’s become a tell-tale sign that Baz is in the room. Admittingly, she’d rather have Baz here than off plotting, so she stopped leaving the room every time she spotted Baz take out her small bottles of nail polish. Besides, she usually only has the polish out for about 30 minutes anyway. Siona timed her once, out of boredom and slight curiosity. She takes around ten minutes to actually apply the polish, and spends the rest of the time waving her hands elegantly and blowing on them in order to get them to dry faster. 

There’s probably a spell for it, but she’s never seen Baz use one. Siona bets she’s probably afraid of accidentally smudging it as she reaches for her wand: it’s the exact sort of thing that she’d be fussy about. A day in the life of Tyrannia Basilica Grimm-Pitch, with nothing more to worry about than smudging her nail polish and forgetting to brush her hair (which she does twice a day, sometimes more, and always with a studded comb as if she’s royalty). She’d look just fine if she didn’t brush it too, which is perfectly unfair. 

“Are you going to come in? Or do you need an invitation?” 

She infuriates Siona without trying; fucking posh girls with their shiny hair and obnoxious grey eyes. And then she opens her mouth and she’s insulting Siona like it’s second nature, just like she’s been doing ever since they met. Luckily, Siona knows Baz well enough to annoy her right back: she strides over to the window soundlessly and slides it open. 

She can practically feel Baz’s glare cut through her as she sits on her bed, trying not to look suspicious as she scoots as close as she can to the edge without falling off. It’s the only way she can see what step of her nail polish routine Baz is on, and what color she’s using. Her nail polish bottles are balanced precariously on an old textbook as she leans over and delicately twists one open. It’s a deep purple, and Siona watches as she swipes the brush slowly over a fingernail. She already has one hand done, and the color catches the light as she works on the other. It’s a pretty color, and Siona grudgingly admits it suits Baz. 

She’s been staring for far too long now, and she knows Baz can probably tell but is choosing to pretend she can’t, something Siona doesn’t understand. Instead of snapping at Siona for staring, Baz simply lifts her hand and inspects her work, letting the coat of polish dry. It’s perfectly applied, as always. It’s infuriating actually, is what it is. Of course Baz can apply nail polish effortlessly, of course her nails are shiny ovals unlike Siona’s shorter stubs. Her hand’s steadier too, and she doesn’t even need a Q-tip soaked in acetone to wipe away polish on her cuticle. Gabby and Rhea taught her that trick once, when they’d tried to teach her how to paint her nails. It had been ages ago, but she’d learned that it was way harder than it looked. 

“What do you think?” 

“What?” 

Baz rolls her eyes, extending her hands in front of her to admire her handiwork. She waves them slowly in Siona’s direction once, before gently placing them back down. 

“Not that your opinion is relevant, obviously,” she retorts. “A simpleton like you wouldn’t know the difference between gel and matte anyway.” 

“Don’t you need one of those light things for gel? Rhea uses one.” 

Another eye roll. 

“I came up with a spell years ago. Even then, there’s polish that isn’t gel but looks like gel. Obviously.”

“Oh.” 

_ Does Baz always have to make me feel like a fucking moron? No one cares about the difference between gel with light and fake gel, anyway.  _

“Have you ever used it?” 

From this angle, the light streaming in through the window is glinting off Baz’s nails and hair, and it looks so pretty it’s distracting.

“Used what?” 

“Nail polish, Crowley, Snow,” Baz says, exasperated. “Are you always this scatterbrained, or do I have the honor of witnessing you reaching new levels of idiocy?” 

“Uh. Once, I think,” she responds, ignoring the dig, and as if she can’t help it, “I wasn’t very good.” 

“What an unexpected revelation.” 

And there it is. They really can’t go two sentences without insulting the other, can they? Not that Siona wants to; doing anything other than fighting with Baz doesn’t seem right. But then again, isn’t this the sort of thing roommates do? Paint each other’s nails and all that. Not that they’ve ever been regular roommates, but still. 

As if Baz’s read her mind (which isn’t something vampires can do, Siona’s pretty sure about that) she sighs dramatically (as she does all things) and rolls her eyes (also something she does often). 

“Do you want me to show you how?” 

“What?” 

BAZ

Fuck, she hadn’t meant to say that. But what was she supposed to do? Siona had just been sitting there staring at Baz for the last ten minutes, and it had taken all her self-control to not look over until she was done. And now she was looking at Baz’s nails as if she’d never seen a manicured hand before, so there was really only so much Baz could take. Siona was beautiful, sitting there all confused, with her curly hair tossed haphazardly in a ponytail and her eyes wide. Though, because the world was cruel and unfair and Baz was a fool, she was beautiful all the time. 

“I’m not repeating myself.” 

“You’d really show me how?” her eyes are narrowed, and Baz rolls her eyes. 

“Isn’t that what I said? I can’t sit around while you take a millenium to answer, Snow. Some of us actually care about our classes and have to study.” 

“Yes,” she says finally. “I’d like that.” 

“Brilliant,” Baz replies sarcastically, but she’s sure her standing up and walking over to Siona’s bed is ruining the effect. 

Now that she’s here, it’s clear she didn’t think this through. Siona’s good enough with a sword, but her hands are probably ridiculously shaky when it comes to holding anything delicate, which means it’ll take longer than it takes Baz to paint her own nails. And they’ll be sitting in fairly close proximity too.  _ Aleister Crowley.  _

“What are you doing?” 

“I can’t show you how to put nail polish on from my bed, Snow. Surely even you could figure that out.” 

“Right.” 

She sits down across from Siona, setting her textbook and bag of nail polish beside them. She’s already picked out the perfect color for Siona in her head—a light blue that matches her eyes—but it could be better if Siona just picked out her own color. Baz doesn’t think she’d be able to choose a different color, and her immediately handing Siona the blue might make her think like she’s thought about this before. 

“Color preference?” 

Siona shrugs. “I don’t really care.” 

And, well. It’s an opportunity too great to lose. She had bought the color because it reminded her of Siona’s eyes (something she would never tell her, and knowing Siona, she probably won’t even notice) but had never been able to bring herself to put it on. Siona lights up slightly when she pulls it out, and Baz holds back a smile. 

“It’s pretty,” she comments, and Baz hums in agreement. 

“Base coat first,” she informs Siona, passing her the bottle. 

Siona doesn’t take it, and Baz shakes it slightly. 

“What’s wrong?” she says irritably. 

“Could you do that one? I, uh, I don’t want the first layer to be messy.” 

Getting to paint Siona’s nails is like something out of a dream, and Baz has to force herself to act annoyed as she agrees. Siona brings one of her hands closer, and Baz twists the bottle open. They’re both silent as Baz leans closer and dips the brush in the polish, careful not to spill any. Siona’s nails are smaller than hers, and aren’t neatly filed either, but Baz doesn’t think she could care less. 

SIONA 

Baz is bloody brilliant. Her hand’s cold as she adjusts Siona’s, and their foreheads would be touching if Siona bent any closer. They’re waiting for the base coat to dry now, and just as Siona had suspected, she hadn’t needed to fetch any Q-tips. Somehow, when they’re sitting this close, Baz doesn’t seem as vicious as she usually does. She just seems—well, she just seems like a regular girl, not one destined to kill her someday. 

“Okay, that’s dry,” Baz announces, and Siona can’t help but feel oddly sad about that. 

If the base coat’s dry, then that means there’s only a couple coats of polish left. Then they go back to sniping at each other, and this is nice. It’s setting Siona at ease, knowing that Baz is right in front of her and is doing something for her without being a total pain about it. 

“Can you do the rest?” 

“You can’t?” 

“Baz.” 

Baz puts on a whole show, rolling her eyes and scoffing as if she hadn’t been painting her nails already. She puts on the polish quickly, smoothing it over Siona’s nails and capping the bottle. For a moment they just sit there, watching the polish dry. 

Baz is lovely like this, with her hair falling down her back like a wave, and a small, barely there smile on her lips. Her eyes—wait—she’s looking at Siona’s lips, before her eyes dart back up when she realizes she’s been caught. 

And then suddenly it all makes sense, and Siona’s leaning forward before she wimps out, pressing her lips against Baz’s. They’re soft—of course they are,fucking posh girls with their fancy chapsticks—and they’re parting under Siona’s and this,  _ this _ is what feels right. She runs a hand through Baz’s hair, which is just as silky as it looks, and Baz is doing the same, before they’re both pulling away for air. 

Siona grins as she takes in Baz’s disheveled appearance, before leaning in to tuck back a loose strand of her hair. 

“Did you just fucking smudge your nails, Snow?” 

Siona can’t help it; she bursts out laughing, and after a moment of hesitation, Baz joins in. Siona realizes then that she’s never laughed with Baz before, and she wants to do it again and again and again. Siona doesn’t know what that means, or if they’ll pretend none of this happened. The thought comes with an ache; she can’t go back to hating Baz after this. Maybe she never really had. But for now, she doesn’t say anything: the moment’s too fragile for that. Instead, she moves closer until her head’s resting on Baz’s collarbone, and as Baz wraps her arms around her, she decides they’ll figure it out tomorrow. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm sourcherrysconess on tumblr, come say hi :)


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